


Wilds Acts of Prestidigitation

by XIntensity_FallsX



Series: Reincarnated Falls AU [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bill's a complete mess, Billford - Freeform, Characters with past trauma, Conman Bromance between Bill and Stanley, Gift Fic, He's reincarnated from a triangle dream demon, Human bill, M/M, Mentions of peril, Modern AU, Out of character sort of for Bill, Recent college grad Stanford Pines, Young Stan Twins, life is hard for this version of Bill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 05:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XIntensity_FallsX/pseuds/XIntensity_FallsX
Summary: When Stanford Pines decided to give into his brother's invitation and visit him in Gravity Falls after graduating from college, he was not expecting to find mystery in both the town and Stanley's fellow con artist friend.An AU where Stanley got to Gravity Falls first with Bill Cipher in tow.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fooeyburr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fooeyburr/gifts).



> This fic was written for FooeyBurr, my friend and rp partner :) I feel it important to mention that Bill Cipher in this fic is a reincarnated human, and due to this, is out of character. He's got powers, but life was not kind to him- as it wouldn't be if you were a baby/child/teen with the ability to make fire appear and float along with a host of other powers.
> 
> Keep this in mind while you are reading this AU, and thank you for stopping by!

"And that's why I don't want you around when my brother comes tomorrow."  

Bill's one eye flickered over to Stanley. He licked the remaining juice from his fingertips, a reminder from the last strawberry he had eaten moments before. He made a sound and shoved his hands into the pockets of his velvet suit coat. "Run that by me again? How am I supposed to work my business properly if you don't want me outside catching customers? No one goes inside a fortune teller's shop out of curiosity! At least not mine."  

"Well, that might be due to the nightmare paint job you've got going on. And all the teeth in the window. It's a bit unsettling, even for our neck of the woods." Stanley jabbed a finger over his shoulder at the yellow bricked building they were leaning against. The bricks were painted haphazardly, the uneven relic of a structure looming over them at crooked angles. The wooden shop sign hung by two rusty chains, creaking as the wind went by. Every once in awhile, the chains kinked up and clattered- the sound echoing down Old Main Street. Stanley's shoulders rose up sharply at the noise. "Your shop's the creepiest part of this stupid town."  

Bill waved his hand and frowned. "This is precisely why I stand _outside_ the building. ...And the teeth are part of the ambiance, I'll have you know. Besides, if my little shop of cognitive answers is the creepiest, your freak show comes in a smooth second place, _Mr. Mystery._ " 

"Alright, alright. I touched a nerve. Sorry. It's just... you know, my brother. He's not like us-" 

"You mean he's a fine, outstanding citizen?" 

"-A con artist, Bill. He's not a con artist. He's a scholar. He's smart. He's going to go to actual places with legitimate talents, and he won't have to do it like we do. Which is exactly why you need to stay away from him. He's finally agreed to come see me after what happened back at home. I can't lose this chance. I mean, normally I like your uh, 'winning character traits', but right now you're a liability. I gotta show him I'm not a loser, and he can't be distracted from that. Maybe we can fix the problems between us. I might get to go home once in awhile. Y'know, see the family."  

Stanley's words drifted over Bill. They sank in like anchors, drifting through the darkest depths of his mind until they struck the necessary nerve. He shut his eye, his face settling into a scowl. "It's fine. I get it, Pines." Bill said, his voice abrupt. "I won't open tomorrow. It's not a big deal, one day. I won't even come bother you for lunch, like usual." 

"Er, you... you want me to give you some money to compensate you for the missed customers?" 

Bill knew better to hesitate whenever Stanley had money out. He grabbed the cash, counting it quietly. Stanley watched him, squinting at the tall, thin man. Every now and then while he concentrated and counted, the flicker of a narrow black tongue showed itself between Bill's plump lips. He knew Bill for a good three years now, since coming to Gravity Falls. He saw him eat. He had a normal human tongue. He passed it off as his mind playing tricks on him, choosing to look down at his shoes and shadow rather than watching Bill out of the corner of his eye.  

"You had to give it to me in all singles." Bill folded up the money and stuck them in the pocket of his tight suit pants. "I don't agree with how much money you think I do in a day, but I'll take the gesture." Bill pulled his top hat off, running a hand through his curly black hair. He fiddled with the brim of his hat, focusing on it instead of the other man beside him. "I get why you want this to go smoothly, but what does me even saying a friendly 'hello' have to do with it? I ain't that bad, Stanley." 

The sign creeked and snapped above them, flapping in the wind during the conversation's pause. Bill frowned, peering over Stanley as he waited for an answer. He seemed to be struggling with something as he stared down at his worn dress shoes. When he did meet his gaze again, his face was oddly pink. "I know, Bill. You've stuck by me more than anyone else has. It's not about you bein' bad, or something. It's about another sort of thing. You're... you're his type. Clever, funny, snappy dresser. You'd catch his interest real quick, and Stanford's never... well... he... you don't... Ugh." Stanley ran a hand down his face. He let it fall to his side and sighed. "He's got these extra fingers, and most people don't look his way. It's stupid, because he's so smart. What does having extra fingers matter to anything? Just means he's more evolved."  

"You're worried I'll chew him up and spit him out, then?" 

"Exactly. I know you wouldn't do it intentionally either, which makes it somehow worse. You're my friend, Bill. But you'd be one hell of a distraction for Stanford, and he doesn't need that. Not when he's tryin' to make something of himself. He just graduated from college. He's got a life ahead of him." 

"Oh." Bill's smile was there as he watched Stanley's shadow on the sidewalk grow shorter as the sun beamed down on them. "You should have said that first, I might not have taken your money. Regardless, you've got a deal! I'll stay out of your brother's hair." 

"Heh. Bullshit on you not taking my money." Stanley grinned. He looked down to his shadow, watching it shrink in the afternoon sun. He looked over to Bill's shadow, noting his was missing already. "You know what's funny? Sometimes I don't think you got a shadow. ...Gotta be the sun playing tricks."  

Bill gave him a strange smile. "You never know, I _could_ be monster." 

 "Hah, sure. If you were a monster, I would have hired you a long time ago." Stanley punched him lightly in the arm. "Thanks Bill. You're a pal."  

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're welcome. I _can_ be generous when I want to be." 

- 

When Stanford Pines approached a run down section of a beat up town, he glanced at the directions he scrawled out on a piece of paper. He frowned in concentration, looking up from the words and back down again to make certain he was here. A rickety "Historical District" wooden sign which seemed to have been thrown together in five minutes from reject materials from a hardware store greeted him. "This is the historic section?" He blinked, and looked around again. The buildings loomed, missing siding, missing shingles, missing windows. He shoved his directions back into his pocket, mindful of the broken sidewalk beneath his feet. Of course Stanley would have found a run down part of town to set up some charlatan business. "Hasn't changed one bit. _Histor_ _ic_ _Section_ indeed." He stuck his hands in the pocket of his slacks before anyone could see them.  

"Beg me to come out here for some sort of con. That's just like him. He's probably not even up yet." He kicked a piece of the sidewalk, watching it bounce several times before rolling off to rest against a yellow bricked building. His eyes slowly roamed up the strange structure, with it's crooked shape and bright yellow color, it stuck out easily among the other buildings. He approached it, watching the wooden sign dance noisily in the wind. "A fortune teller's shop- Mom would be jealous." He frowned and pulled the instructions out of his pocket, moving to stand in front of the building. The yellow building was 284 Old Main Street, Stanley's shop was 288 Old Main Street. When he glanced up from the paper, he caught sight of a rag moving back and forth against the old glass inside the shop. He adjusted his glasses, squinting at it. _No one was holding the rag up_. The rag stopped, hanging in mid air as Stanford continued to stare at it. If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn it was contemplating what to do. It decided to flop in a heap, kicking up dust around it where it landed.  

Stanford's hand shot out of his pocket, grasping the door as quickly as he could. He fiddled with it in haste, and with a heave, he pushed the old door open. Sunlight light flooded into a hazy room full of trinkets and depictions of the all seeing eye. Light captured the dust as it fell, before it was knocked to and fro by the person dancing in the middle of the room. Stanford knew it was impolite to stare, but it was all he could do. Whomever he was, he was wrapped up in quite the song. Whatever it was, Stanford did not hear it. It was being played from the man's black phone, which was barely shoved into his hooded sweatshirt. The cord from his ear buds whipped along with his movements. Long, curly hair danced around him as he pointed this way and that. Objects zipped through the air, moving from one place to another at a pace matching whatever tune he was listening to, landing where ever he pointed. Several skulls floated above Stanford, bouncing up and down to the invisible beat. He stared at them, eyes wide and mouth agape. He reached up to try and grab one to see if there was anything at all holding them up.  The skulls stopped moving, hanging rigidly in the air when his fingers grazed one of them. Everything went still, including Stanford. He stared wide eyed at the other man, getting the same look in return. 

"You came _in_ to _my_ store?" 

Stanford's hand shot down, taking refuge behind his back as he took in the sight of the man before him. His skin was light brown and his face was pointed, accented by a streak of blond curls which hung over half of his face. His visible eye was almond shaped, oddly yellow, and had a triangle shaped mark beneath it. He was staring at Stanford still, eye wide as he seemingly waited for anything to be said. "I—I'm sorry! The door was unlocked, I-I thought you were open!" When the other man did not move, he swallowed thickly and tried again. "I'm a paranormal investigator, I couldn't help but notice your shop or... or your talents. You have to let me interview you!" Stanford's hand trembled as he reached into his jacket pocket, removing a notepad and pen. "I've never seen anything like it before, and to think it'd be here in such a... a quaint town. Would you consider yourself a human, or some kind of magical manifestation of-"  

"Whoa- whoa. Hold on there, pal. I'm afraid what you've walked in on is a simple act of wild prestidigitation and nothing more.  Smoke, mirrors, strings, men behind curtains! It's all an act. There's no actual magic here." He chuckled and clapped his hands. The skulls fell to the ground, save for the one Stanford caught. 

He examined the skull, and then looked up at the other man. "There's no string on this. You were moving it with something other than 'smoke and mirrors'."  

"...You're a real smart guy, ain't ya?" He pulled out a chair from his usual fortune telling table, sitting in front of Stanford. He gestured for him to take the other chair.  

"Well." Stanford said as he took the other antique chair to sit across from him. "I just graduated with a doctorate several years ahead of schedule and if all goes well in my research, I will have an additional three in another year." He sat down, clicking the retractable pen's button over and over. "So, that magic you were using-"  

"Mmm. Let me stop you right there. Riddle me this, IQ. If I had actual magic, would I be sitting in a ramshackle but charming building such as this?" He gestured to the dusty room. "Wouldn't I be in a far better position in life, rather than a con artist in some backwater hick town?" 

"I.... I suppose..." 

"You supposed right, brainiac." He kicked his long legs out, his hand resting on one of them- idly tracing a zig zag into the denim. "So, you want your fortune read or...?" When he spoke, he did not look at Stanford. Rather, he continued to stare at the pattern in his jeans. "Because I-" 

"I'm sorry." Stanford stopped clicking the pen. "I got carried away. This is my passion, and I thought you were something you're not." 

"Don't worry pal, lots of people think that."  

"That's not what I meant, I'm sure you're... that... that you have..." His words were jamming up quicker than he could untangle them, especially with Bill's narrowed eye now staring at him. "I... I really should have stopped talking sooner..." 

"What _have_ I got, doc?" His voice sharply, startling Stanford. "Tell me. You've known me all of five minutes, and you've spent most of them trying to tell me what I am, so keep going. Come on, tell me some patronizing thing you think I am. What's the matter, smart guy? Tongue tied?" He stood up, looming over Stanford in the haze of dust and morning light. " _Tell me what I have_."  

Stanford's eyes were locked on him as he tried to prevent to keep from sliding down in the chair. The man before him seemed five times the size, his precense weighing on him like bricks. His hands gripped the skull he still had with him, ready to use it if need be. Then again, he was not Stanley. His mind replayed the words he said to Bill over and over, and it made him frown deeper. His eye was on him, unrelenting and angry. He had to do something, after all he barged into his shop, questioned him, and struck a nerve he had no business even looking for. "I'm sorry. I... I don't get to talk to people often. I thought maybe I found someone who is different, like I am. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions like I did, I definitely should not have assumed anything. I don't like it when people do that to me, I know better. Ma-maybe you can tell me about who you actually are, and where you learned to do those tricks? Over coffee, perhaps? I’m sure it's a great story." 

The expression on his face softened. He dropped his shoulders. "Look pal, it's alright. I got a little touchy with you when I coulda went about that a different way. Sometimes a guy has more exposed nerves than he wants to admit. And coffee? You mean you don't want to stay around here instead? Don't like the dust and haze? It's part of the experience when you come to visit the nightmare king, after all." The edge in his voice was gone as well, replaced by a wide smile.  

"I can't even see you properly." 

"You do know you're not supposed to see the man behind the curtain properly, right?"  

Stanford cracked a smile. "I suppose you're also not the droids I'm looking for either."  

"Oh, _nice_ use of Jedi in a casual conversation, but I'm a Sith Lord so you're going to have to do better than that." He was smiling, his hands on his hips. "What's your name, nerd?" 

"Right, I'm sorry. I should have mentioned that earlier. I'm Stanford Pines." He stood up and his smile grew. He was about to offer his hand in greeting when he caught the smile draining off of the other man's face. "And you... um...?" 

"Of _cour_ _s_ _e_ you'd be Stanford Pines. And yeah, IQ. You really should have." The other man's face sank into a disappointed gaze. He sighed hard and placed his hands on Stanford's shoulders, backing him out of the shop.  

"Wait—why is that bad? What did I do, I don't understand-" Suddenly, he was outside again- his brown hair blown back by the force of the wooden door closing in front of him. He blinked rapidly at it. "I don't even know your name!" 

"Forget I exist! You're talking to nobody!" The words were muffled by the heavy wooden door, accompanied by the sound of not one, but two locking mechanisms.  

Stanford went to the shop's dirty, teeth filled window. He saw the other man through the grime and held up his unintentional souvenir. "But I have your skull!" He caught the scowl, watching him vanish from view. A moment later, a sign with the words 'KEEP IT' scrawled across the surface in neat black letters was slapped across the glass. Stanford held the skull tighter to him, his brows knitted together. He looked at the words one last time before his shoulders drooped. The OPEN sign was switched to CLOSED with heavy thud. 

"What did I do?" Stanford asked, his words soft and spoken to no one in particular. "I don't... I don't understand."  

- 

The Mystery Shack happened to be a beat up building one structure over from Bill's shop. It may have been a house at one point, a tattoo parlor the next, and abandoned until Stanley bought it for a penny at an auction when they first arrived in Gravity Falls. It took a decent amount of work to get it livable. He made sure to take a picture of him and Bill in front of it when they first got there. Stanford needed to see how far he came, so he spent some extra money getting the picture professionally framed and hung it proudly on the wall beside the cash register. He looked at the picture fondly, remembering the conversation they shared before he snapped the photograph. 

 _"It's got character, Bill."_  

 _"Don't give me that, it was a penny and that's all you had in your pockets. Also, it may be rabid. If this house was an animal, it'd be rabid."_  

 _"Do you want to go back to sleeping under the bridge? Because that's where we're going to have to go. Under the bridge. With that other homeless guy that tried to steal your shoe._ _"_  

 _"…You know, with a little paint..."_  

He laughed and rubbed the smudge off the glass. "I'm going to have to take this over to Bill and show im'." His smile shrank. " _Tomorrow_. I'll show him tomorrow." He dropped his hands to his sides, his fingers drumming on his slacks. "Hopefully he's cleaning his shop today. It needs to be cleaned. This will give him the chance. Yeah. This was a good plan, Stan." He saw Bill every day for the past three years, usually at lunch time, or lulls in the day when neither of them had a customer. 

 Every day _except_ today. 

 Bill became a brother somewhere in those three years. _And there you go, you paid him to stay inside all day, with not even a customer to keep him company. You know how he gets. Lonely. You abandoned him, Stanley_. _You abandoned him for the brother who abandoned you._ "I'm not guilty, you're guilty!" He shouted at his reflection in the mirror, and raked a hand down his face. "It needs to be this way, what's twenty-four hours gonna do? Everyone needs time apart." He looked at his reflection again and groaned. "...I've officially gone nuts." 

He glanced up at the clock. Stanford had not arrived yet, maybe he could go down and grab them some coffee from Greasy's before- 

The bell above the front door jingled, and there stood Stanford Pines. He looked largely the same as the last time Stanley saw him, slacks, sweater vest, button down shirt and a jacket. He was cradling a skull and wearing a dejected look Stanley knew he had seen before. It was the same expression when Tanya Jenkins rejected his offer to dance and threw punch in his face. He wasn't looking at Stanley, instead he stared down at the skull. The empty sockets returned the gesture. "Er... hiya Sixer!" Stanley smiled at him. "Only in town for a few minutes and you made a friend already. ...You uh... you okay over there?"  

"Stanley, do you know the man who runs the Fortune Teller shop?" 

"Ughhhh." Stanley slapped his forehead. "Did he come out and talk to you?!" 

Stanford looked up from the skull, looking at Stanley owlishly. "N-no, I went into his shop. I saw something interesting in the window." 

Stanley leveled a tired look in the other man's direction. "Of _course_ you'd be the one person on the face of the planet that would willingly go into Bill's shop."  

"His name is Bill." Staford's words were quiet as he looked back down to the skull. _Bill, the Nightmare King_. "...Are you friends? Can you get me back in there?" He put the skull on the counter and gave Stanley what could only be a hopeful look. It was the same look Stanford gave him when he asked Stanley to help him talk to women too many years ago.  

"Um—what happened in there, Ford?" 

"I don't know! I went in, I accidentally insulted him, but when I apologized we started _flirting_ , Stanley. Real flirting, _actual_ flirting and he liked my Star Wars joke— then when I told him my name, he pushed me right out of the store, locked me out, and wouldn't talk to me anymore. I... I have had that happen with people when they see my hands, but not... not when I tell them my name." 

 "Jesus." Stanley sighed. "Ford, I asked—no, I paid him not to talk to you. I figured you would like him. I... I didn't want him to distract you while you were here for... for purely selfish reasons. I know you're wanting to be a researcher in all, and this town is _weird_ , but... it's not... ya'know, the best place for someone whose going places. It... It might hold you back. Like me. ...Ford, I'm so sorry about the science fai-" 

"Stanley, stop. It's... it's fine. I've made my peace with it, and while I appreciate what you've done to try and protect me from _something_ , I need to speak to your fortune teller neighbor. He's something strange, and different. He's got odd things in his store, and I have this gut instinct that... that I need to be here." 

"All because you met Bill for five minutes?" Stanley watched Stanford's face turn a bright shade of red. "Yeah, that's a no. Stanford, Bill and I are losers. You can actually be a winner. You can go to big city, make a name for yourself, doing something smart. This... this something stupid, right here. This is what you do when you're not smart, so you don't live under a bridge all of your life." 

"Wh-what? You lived under a _bridge_?" 

"Look, it's better than a box in an alleyway. Sometimes you can catch some decent fish under a bridge. The sound of the water can be peaceful and stop looking at me like that, would ya? Everything turned out fine. I live here, I make good money." 

"Stanley, you were _homeless_? Why didn't you-" 

"Stop right there, Stanford. You wouldn't have helped me, you were too upset with me. You wouldn't have talked to me, don't even pretend. Mom and Dad don't want nothin' to do with me either. It's been me and Bill for the past three years, and it's been pretty good. No bridge life for us, no Rico-" 

" _Rico_?" 

"Sometimes when you don't have food, you do crazy things to get food. That's how I met Bill. We were trapped in the same trunk of Rico's car. I don't know what _he_ did to piss off Rico, he doesn't like talking about it. We escaped though—Bill did it. I'm not... I'm not sure how, though. He doesn't like talking about _that_ either." Stanley looked up to Stanford again from his shoes he was staring at for most of the conversation.  

Stanford's face was void of all color. He stared at Stanley, his mouth half open. "I-I had... I had no idea. Stanley, I am so very sorry. And... and all of this isn't stupid, not one bit. You have a store that has customers, which makes you money. I'd say you're a pretty good business man.  That's smart."  

Stanley's face lit up, and he did not fight the smile on his face.  

"What's stupid is... is me. I shouldn’t have made you feel like you could have never contacted me. I was so upset with you, Stanley. But I never would have ignored you if you were in that much trouble! I'm sorry you felt that way." 

"Hey... don't worry about it, Sixer. I probably wouldn't have come to you for help anyway. You know, that whole pride thing gets in the way sometimes. So... let me give you a tour of the Mystery Shack. Then we'll go over and I'll clean up this mess with Bill." 

- 

 _You know, you've really done it this time. You had one job, you screwed it up. Don't talk to his brother, what a simple_ _deal_ _._ _Now you can't stay here. You broke a deal that meant everything to Stanley. He's going to be mad. He's going to hate me._ Bill pressed his back into the door of his shop, chewing on his bottom lip. He bought the store not long after Stanley purchased the Mystery Shack for not much more than one dollar. Every book on the shelf, every skull on the wall, every weird item he found in the forest not far from town and brought back had a story. _Three years. How am I supposed to leave here? What items do I take? How in the world am I supposed to choose?_  

 He folded his arms over his knees. "He's never going to want to speak to me again." He sank his head into his arms, the comforting warmth enveloping him.  

Stanley was around for the longest. Three years. Bill slowly extended his arm from his warm cocoon. Blue flames sprung up from his fingertips, dancing in the dull haze of his shop. They wrapped around his long fingers, growing smaller until they vanished completely. "I didn't have to use my powers to frighten him away or make him angry. I just broke a deal. That's... that's so _funny_." 

No laughter came. He wiped the tears from his face, hunger gnawing at his gut. It must have been noon by now, Stanford and Stanley will have met, and his mistake will be known. Soon, Stanley will be banging on his door, shouting at him for screwing up his one chance with his brother. He'll say how much he hates Bill, how he'd better get out of town and never come back. It's going to hurt. It's going to hurt the _most_. It was bound to happen, every place he ever tried to call home he was run out of. Once they learned of his 'problems', it was all over. The foster home when he was ten. The high school he attempted to attend. The homeless shelter during the winter. And of course, the disaster with Rico. This was home, and he wrecked it because he wasn't careful enough. Balling up his fist, he swung at the wall. Skin and bone smashed against the solid surface. Pain shot through him and he welcomed it. He laid down on the floor, letting the ache throb. 

 Each passing second slipped by, marked by the ticking on the clock. It moved slow, matching the pounding in his chest and the throb in his hand. The sound of muffled voices passing by his window washed over him. 

"Yeah, our first day here, we took a walk in the woods. Big mistake."  

Bill sat up, shifting his position to press against the door. His heart leapt into his throat. The gruff voice was Stanley's. He didn't sound mad.  

"We ran across these dwarves-" 

"They were gnomes." The words tumbled out of his mouth. Bill's eye went wide at the realization. _That's the gnome story. He's telling the gnome story. He can't be mad, not if he's telling that story!_ He pressed his ear to the door. 

"-They wanted to make Bill their gnome queen. It's that hair he's got. They thought he was a woman, or something."  

"How in the world did you get out of that?" 

"A leaf blower." Stanley said and Bill whispered at the same time. Bill shut his eye. _Please don't run me out of town. Not you. It was an accident! He came willingly into my shop, I was innocently cleaning! Please, please don't leave me._ _I can't take you being like the others._ He swallowed, and swallowed again. Nothing was moving the lump in his throat.  

A knock rocked his door. "Hey—uh, Bill? You in there?" 

 _Yes. YES. YES!_ He pressed his injured hand to the door, opening his mouth to say anything at all only to have nothing come out.  

"Look um, Stanford told me what happened. Who would have thought he would have been the one person to come into your shop, am I right?" 

Bill's fingers dug right into the door. 

"That was a stupid deal, you know. I shouldn't have made it. I didn't want anything to screw this up. I'm not mad. If you're in there, we'd like it if you came down to Greasy's and had lunch with us." 

The mail slot on the door opened up. Bill's glossy eye looked up at Stanley. "This isn't a trick to get me out and then chase me out of the town with torches and sharp objects, right?" 

"...That's an oddly specific thing to say." Stanford peered over Stanley's shoulder. 

"What? No. Bill, open the door for crap's sake."  

Bill shut the mail slot, pushing away from the door. He  stumbled into a standing position, unlocking the door. He opened it a crack, looking over the two of them. 

"We don't have any torches! We're not going to run you out of town." Stanley frowned. "Get your spindly ass out here."  

The door swung open in a fury of dust. Bill grabbed on to Stanley, hugging him quickly. When he pulled away, Stanley was covered in as much dust as Bill used to have on him. "Heh. Whoops. I was cleaning." He patted Stanley's jacket, causing the dust to fly up in the afternoon sun. 

Stanley grumbled as he continued to pat his jacket clean of dust. "Using yourself as the duster?" 

"I'm not telling you my cleaning secrets." Bill hooked his injured hand behind him to hide it, his fingers aching while he twisted one in his belt loop. "So ah, how'd you find the Mystery Shack, IQ?" 

"It's Stanford, but..." He paused when he saw the smirk on Bill's face. "….You're going to call me whatever you want, aren't you?" 

"Your brother's a smart cookie, Stanley." Bill's smile grew as he reached over to pinch Stanford's cheek. His fingers left a grey smear on his skin. He winced and tried to make it better by wiping it off, only to increase the area into a full on smudge. "Whoops. Well, I got Stanley dusty, I suppose it's only fair I do the same to you. Hang on, I'll get a cloth." 

Stanford watched Bill go back inside the shop, his face now a brilliant shade of pink and grey. "I... I want to stay in Gravity Falls, Stanley." 

"...For scientific reasons?" 

"Yes, but that's not the only reason. I have a brother I need to reconnect with and... and some fascinating people I need to know better." 

"Uh huh." Stanley shook his head. "Well. I got an extra room in the shack, you're welcome to it."  

 "Excellent! I'll start making plans immediately when I get back home to move up here. This is exactly the sort of place I need for my research. I'll need you to introduce me to these dwarves, first and foremost when I get back." He went quiet for a moment. "...Hey Stanley?" 

"Yeah, Sixer?" 

Stanford's eyes went back to the open door of Bill's shop, where the other man was currently rummaging around in search of a cloth. "I couldn't help but notice when he walked away... Is it me, or does Bill not have a shadow?" 

"Oh, that. It's... it's just your mind playing tricks on you. He's got one. The lighting's a little more skewed over on this side of town. There's nothing strange about Bill, other than Bill being strange. Trust me, there are way weirder things in this town than Bill Cipher."  

 -End


End file.
